


the Rhythm and I

by orphan_account



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Apocalypse, Croatoan Virus, Gen, Inspired by Lone Digger by Caravan Palace, Inspired by Supernatural (TV), Inspired by Wolf's Rain, M/M, Magical Vanoss, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paradise, War Veteran Jonathan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 01:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12200838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Drink a bit, close your eyes, leave the rhythm spinning, and suddenly the club is the beginning of an apocalypse. Jonathan doesn't know what to do, but that's fine. He's got his military experience and a means of paradise end on his back. He might be able do this.





	the Rhythm and I

**Author's Note:**

> yes, inspired by wolf's rain. and caravan palace. and supernatural, for the croatoan virus because that's magical enough lol. i didnt list it as a fandom though because it's just one thing and i credited it in the tags. same goes for wolf's rain. also inspired by a fic (The Apprentice by halosaximus) i just read. "read". i saw the first half of the chapter and i got an idea. i dont know where it's going because i usually write it all out to like chapter 7 with 3-6k words per so excuse any messes. hopefully i do it right. the chapter length will be shorter.

The French fries are cold and a bit pasty on his tongue when he bites into them. The ketchup doesn't really give it any flavor. It leaves a pit in his stomach, and holes in his lungs, but washing it down with a drink of soda helps a bit. The flavor is harsh and carbonated. The outside world is grey as usual to the autumn season. The cement is freshly wetted by a rain that had finished only five minutes ago, and when Jonathan looks outside, people are still hunched up as if it were still raining. He doesn't blame them; the rain sometimes makes a comeback a few minutes after its first arrivals. There's a slight pattern going on erratically in the weather, though, and Jonathan's been waiting at the street diner long enough to predict it.

He's losing his breath with worry and thought regardless of the scenery.

The rain stops and goes every five to seven minutes, and it lasts maybe three minutes in bursts. Before the pattern, though, it had been one of the heaviest rainfalls of the season, and it lasted what felt like an hour. Mother Nature felt the need to be extra thirty minutes ago, and Jonathan sat at the table just in time to watch everyone unprepared scurry under cover. It bothers him. He's been waiting for nearly three hours. It's high time he left, but he's patient enough to wait one last time. He just hopes he hasn't been stood up. Again. Of the few dates that have actually happened in the past year, Jonathan has the most hope for this one because he knows he's gonna make it the last.

“Is she almost here?”

Jonathan looks away from the window and up at Claire, the waitress that's been serving him for almost three hours. “What?”

“Your date.”

“Ah. Um…yeah. Unfortunately,” he replies. “He's stood me up in the past. Says it's work.”

She raises her brow a bit, clearly not expecting the pronoun but not surprised all the same. “Sounds a bit sketchy,” she comments. She makes a bit of a face. “I don't mean to be rude. I'm sorry. It's just that I've been on the opposite end of what you are in a relationship. Work first, date second, and if I miss it then that's a bummer.”

He smiles a bit bitterly. “Why do you do it?”

“I…well. I did it because my work involved cyber protection. If I got off then people's digital safety would be at stake, and I had that job six years before that relationship. I was single the entire time,” she explains. “I mean, it felt like the world weighted on me.”

“I'm done waiting. I'm not gonna lie,” he murmurs.

She nods in understanding. “Would you like to make a new order? On the house.”

This time, Jonathan's smile reaches his eyes in a positive way. “I think I'll just get another batch of fries with a large…mm, oreo milkshake.”

Claire dutifully jots it down. “I will be back in a few minutes with your order,” she replies.

“Thank you.” Her nod is the only response he gets, but he doesn't mind it and he takes it with gratitude. The world is a bit brighter. He can see the golden lights hanging from the ceilings now, whereas before it was nothing but the gray outdoors.

Fifteen minutes after Claire returns with new french fries and his milkshake, the gossiped date arrives frazzled and wet. His hair is wavy and messy from the downpour, and he's shimmering with the wet. His glasses are off, likely from the fog the clashing temperatures cause. His red North Face is still as soaked as it can get from the weather it's built to reject. It's dripping from where he has it hung on his forearm, and when Jonathan looks at him, his eyes light up and his broad shoulders find a bit more strength to rise. He smiles and gives a small wave, but it all disappears when he receives a cold shoulder.

Jonathan has every right to believe that he expects it after the shit he's been pulling over.

When he sits across from him, awkward and unsure of what he should do, Claire steps up to them with a pen and a notepad. “Anything I can get you, sir?” she asks him.

He shakes his head. “No, I'm fine,” he replies. “Thank you.”

She just smiles and nods. “Call me over if you need anything,” she offers, and she walks away.

“I'm sorry.”

Jonathan sets his chin on his palm and feigns interest. “Are you, now?” he asks apathetically.

He pursues his lips. “Yeah,” he replies.

Jonathan sighs and leans back, rubbing his hands over his face and hair. He groans loudly. “You know you can't keep doing this,” he points out.

Evan's dark eyes cast themselves downwards as he nods. He doesn't say anything, because he knows Jonathan's seriousness and his fuck ups when they're there. He ignores it sometimes, though, and those situations are inches away from a toxic relationship status.

“What was it this time?” Jonathan asks shortly. “A bad day at work? Another man?”

“I'm not cheating,” Evan quickly jumps to say. “It's been…busy. I'm just trying to do the best I can to help.”

“You seriously can't be putting them over me,” Jonathan mumbles. He glares at the milkshake a little as he sighs.

“No—no, I'm not. Trust me, please.”

“I  _ am _ ,” he snaps. Eyes land on him, and when that happens he shrinks. “Okay, we need to take a walk.”

Evan's jaw only clenches, but he does give a small response and pulls out three ten dollar bills. Jonathan doesn't even bother to think on it, he just speeds off and only speaks to Claire with gratitude as he leaves. He throws his hood on over his head and stuffs his hands in his pockets, Evan only a few inches behind. He slams the door of his car shut, just nearly speeding out of the parking lot with his boyfriend in the passenger seat. He's squeezing the car wheel tightly, and it gets to the point of where his knuckles are a bone-white and his teeth feel like breaking from how much pressure he's putting on them.

“…Jon—”

“You just admitted to prioritizing your work and your co-workers over me,” he interrupts harshly. “You can't say shit right now.”

Evan winces. “I'm  _ sorry _ ! Really, I am. Please, just give me another chance.”

Jonathan's thumbs repeatedly hit the steering wheel in a chaotic rhythm. Honestly, he needs a night or day or week to himself. But when he gives it thought, like actually  _ gives _ it thought, he shakes his head sadly. He pulls the car over to the side of the street and sits there, slightly shocked by his own decision. “N-no,” he struggles. “I've given you too many, Ev. You always miss out on it.”

He goes deathly silent.

“Way too many,” he recalls quietly. “Over twelve months together, and neither of us have learned how to stay in control.”

“Please don't,” Evan murmurs. He nervously reaches out and curls his fingers together with Jonathan's. “Please. I promise, I'll make it up to you.”

Jonathan turns his face to Evan briefly before he looks down at their hands and pulls his own away. He folds his two hands together and tucks them between his thighs, pressing his lips together as the heartbreak starts to settle in. He feels bad for doing it, but he also knows that if they continue, more pain would come and he’s not excited for that.

“Jonathan,” Evan tries to say, but Jonathan shakes his head and unbuckles himself. “Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving,” he replies. “You drive yourself home. When I get back, which will probably be sometime between three and eleven in the morning, I expect to get back to an empty apartment.”

Evan’s eyes just widen a little, but right as Jonathan tries to leave his hand grabs his elbow with an iron grip that’s driven by sadness and fear. “Jon, please. It’s dangerous,” he says cautiously.

Jonathan just nearly flinches away as he feels a sharp pain shoot up to his shoulder and to the base of his head. He rips his arm away. “Honestly, that’s desperate,” he snaps. “Goodbye, Evan.”

If anything else were to be said, it’d gotten cut off by the slam of his door and his rushed pace. He remembers hearing Evan’s door open as he tries to lull Jonathan back to the door to continue a conversation that likely will never happen, and that’s it.

The rain re-starts only minutes later, and the loud sounds of the water are what, ironically, drowns out his thought enough to get him to Caravan Palace.

A simple but colorful club. He’d kill for a break, and instead of going home to absorb what he’d just done, he’d go there. Or that’s what he feels like, at least.

It’s what he expected at first. Kinda calm, kinda quiet, but full enough and the bar is rife with alcohol. There’s a brief thirty minutes between opening and closing when Jonathan needs to leave, but he returns for the night club hours. He’s ready to drink some more. Hopefully it works and gets rid of his guilt.

“I’ll need to cut you off in a few,” the bartender says informatively. Her eyes are admirably serious and her makeup is skilled but Jonathan only hums and nods. He feels dizzy and everything is starting to  _ really _ swim anyways.

Regardless, he takes one last swig of his drink and turns around. He sways more than he probably thinks he does, but he doesn’t really mind. No one is around to complain anyway. It’s a bit of a wake-up call when he reaches out for an arm to hold onto, and where he expects Evan’s helpful arm to be he gets an awkward swing of his arm. He just sighs. He can’t go back now. It’s way too early, and if he knows himself and Evan as well as he thinks, he’s gonna go back to his apartment and that slick bastard will be there to try and serenade his drunken ass back into the relationship and Jonathan will take the opportunity.

Stupidly enough, something similar has happened before.

He closes his heavy eyes and makes a humming sound in his chest, just listening to the loud beat and hearing everyone sing along with Future song remixes that hype them into it. He hears something out-of-place, though, pitched and annoying to his sensitive ears. He cringes and turns his head towards the source. He finds it to be a man, wide-eyed, sweating profusely, and in possession of a knife. He’s too drunk to notice it, and for a while he basically rejects the idea that he’s got a knife, and he’s scratching something into the wooden countertop of the bar, but when the female bartender that had served him earlier notices it—and promptly tries to stop it—he grabs the back of her head and buries his teeth into her neck.

Jonathan’s eyes widen a little as blood starts to squirt everywhere from her carotid artery being hit. The closest witnesses start screeching in horror, backing away like he were a demon and running as far away as possible. For a while, the scene goes on. And Jonathan’s muscles are too slow to respond to his strong fight or flight response. Everybody is scattering like rabid hellhounds, and it’s only when someone hits him whilst running that he truly starts to move. It’s fairly safe to say that he’s absorbed what he could.

He turns tail and speeds out of the club, nearly tripping every few moments because he can’t see straight enough to coordinate his steps. The outside world is in total darkness, clogged by dark rain clouds and lit up only by the urban lights. But even then, he can feel something dark growing metaphorically in the shadows. There is a woman across the street shaking and making disgusting noises that sound fairly inhumane, and not too far from her is another man. He’s trying to get into contact with her, but it doesn’t work. The same thing that happened to the bartender in Caravan Palace is happening to the clueless bastard.

It’s just then that Jonathan jerks himself back into the idea that he’s gonna die if he stays. More of those inhumane and snarling sounds are coming from the club. He feels kinda stupid for walking now, but at the same time, he doesn’t really feel all that much self-blame because who can foresee people going rabid and attacking others like that? He certainly didn’t.

The walk, jog, run, whatever he did, is a blur. He can’t really remember much of it because of the alcohol, but it doesn’t matter much. The next thing he remembers makes it all faded.

His apartment building is on fire.

And Evan might still be in there. Who knows? Because he certainly doesn’t. Half the city is on fire, and he blacks out in an alleyway.

* * *

Evan sees it before it happens.

As he is, of course, he doesn’t see it completely. It’s foggy and he doesn’t see the full picture until it—oh,  _ what _ a coincidence—happens.

It’s maybe four in the morning. He’s been expecting Jonathan home for a solid hour now, with a speech prepared to persuade him to change his mind and take him back—whether it be as a friend or boyfriend. He’s not picky anymore, honestly, because Jonathan is too valuable to him and Evan feels obligated to protect him. His line of work can put people in danger just by association. Perhaps he shouldn’t have gotten himself involved in the first place.

But he also regrets nothing. Almost nothing. It’s the cause of these fights that either make or break him as an adversary. He hates it, and as he drinks some fancy alcoholic beverage Jonathan probably bought months ago, he sees why that foggy foreseeing thing happened to him earlier.

In that dream-like vision he sporadically gets, the world is on fire. People run from what he knows is inevitable. Others become rabid and cruel, others become cunning and violent.

Odd how fast it spreads. He almost didn’t expect this.

He turns slightly when he hears knuckles knock on a wooden surface. He sighs a little but smiles a melodramatic greeting when he sees that it’s Tyler. “Hi,” he says.

“Yeah, hi. Don’t say it,” Tyler states.

“Say what? I told you so? Because I told you so.”

He just rolls his eyes. “Look, man, the apocalypse is pretty far-fetched and you know it,” he snaps. “The virus can be isolated, okay? It’s a damn  _ virus _ , after all. That can be quarantined.”

“I’ve already started on the eastern side of the city,” Evan says. “Assuming it’s not growing elsewhere in the world, you guys can finish the rest and get as many people to safety.”

“Fine. But why are you suddenly the leader?”

“Why are you  _ suddenly _ wrong, huh?” he shoots back. “I told you this would happen. You just didn’t listen.”

Tyler huffs. “I’ll round everyone up,” he mutters reluctantly. “I better see you out there, Evan. If you don’t, I’ll find you and kill you myself.”

He hums mirthfully, but also in understanding, as he turns to face his friend with eyes and shoulders alike. “I know you will,” he replies. “I…I just need to find Jonathan. He’s out there. I’m worried.”

Tyler’s face relaxes. He sighs, looking a bit guilty. He’s vibrating with anticipation, though, and Evan can see his lips twitch with the exact same chest-boiling feeling. “Sorry,” he says. “I thought he was here.”

“What? Oh, no. We got into another fight,” he explains. “He’s probably at…Cara…” His eyes widen. “Shit.”

“Did you just connect the dots?” Tyler asks. “Jonathan is out, the rest of the team is in Greece and England, you’re in the presence of a well-trusted friend. I’ve had your back for years. I mean—trust me when I say that you’ve had my back, too. But the one time you didn’t…it broke us.”

Evan stares with a deep frown, confused, before his eyes become watery and dodgy with realization and a thought process he hasn’t followed in a while. He saw this outbreak coming. He’s taken precautions, used charms and rituals to suppress it, prevent it or… _ anything _ , really. “Tyler,” he tries to say.

“What? I wanted Jonathan dead,” he says a bit darkly. “Serves you right, you aren’t very good at being in a relationship with all this work. It’s like you’re a Microsoft employee. Seriously, you had it good. Why did you waste it?”

“It’s not gone—”

“Shut up, you know it is. Don’t exhaust this idea that he’s gonna take you back.”

He narrows his eyes. “What the hell are you doing, Wildcat?”

“I’ve already done it,” Tyler states. He smiles. “He can’t take you back,  _ Vanoss _ , if you’re…dead.”

“What?”

Tyler just disappears in a wisp of white smoke, and it’s in that very moment that he feels fire blister his skin, burn his clothes, and destroy his conscious.

**Author's Note:**

> leave feedback if you enjoyed :)


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